


Glass Houses

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 01:59:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: He knew they were up to something, knew they just HAD to be!  Damn fool idea, pulling in a bunch of cons, acting like they knew more, could do a better job than real soldiers.  And not even being kept locked away securely, just trotting around, pretty much free as a bunch of birds, even corrupted that young idiot Garrison!  Well, Colonel Davies knew the score; he'd first gotten the heads up from an old friend, Colonel Pryor,  after he got back by the skin of his teeth; all about how Garrison and his crew almost ruined Pryor's bid for escape from that prisoner of war camp, and boy had he gotten an earful!  It was disgraceful, that's what it was, and while Pryor had somehow been prevented from taking care of them properly, HE didn't have such limitations. He'd been glad to agree to do something about the appalling situation. HE was going to get the proof needed to send them right back where they belonged!





	Glass Houses

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place right after 'Outsider', in which we saw Colonel Davies lurking around, making a general nuisance of himself. Colonel Pryor, of course, was from the Episode 'Ride of Terror', in which the team rescues him from a German prisoner of war camp and Pryor proves not only uncooperative but singularly unappreciative.

Lieutenant Craig Garrison was starting to get pissed off. He tried to maintain as much patience as he could for the stupidity his fellow officers could get up to concerning his team, knowing he couldn't afford to waste his energy responding to every slight or offence, but sometimes he thought if they spent as much time fighting the war as they did trying to ride his ass about the team or cause trouble for them, the damned thing would be over and done with, and they could all get on with their lives! This latest, this Colonel Davies, who knows what set him off but everywhere Garrison and the men turned, there he was, watching.

It had gotten so bad that when a special packet of information was expected from outside military channels, Garrison had arranged a rendezvous down at the pub, rather than having the courier come to the Mansion or to the Cottage. He'd sent Chief, figuring he would be the most likely to be able to get out, there and back with no distractions or mayhem. Of course, that hadn't worked out quite like the Lieutenant had planned, with those daytrippers pulling their hijinks, but the transfer was made, and hopefully it had looked like just a serendipitous encounter, because, as they were all having a drink with Ian O'Donnell at that big round table after all the fuss was over, there he was - Colonel Davies, standing at the bar, pretending to sip at a pint, watching them out of the corner of his eye, accompanied by that pet Sergeant of his, Twilling by name.

Garrison made sure each of his men knew those two by sight; made sure a few other friends knew them by sight as well. Problem was, at least one of the problems, there was no telling who else might be reporting to Colonel Davies, ones they DIDN'T know by sight, and there was always that troublemaker, Doby, to be wary of. He hated to waste Meghada's resources on something that might not be anything, but on the off chance this turned nasty, as more than one of these things had in the past, he mentioned it to her as well.

She agreed, of course, not that there'd been any doubt, but sighed deeply, "did it ever occur to you, Craig, that if these fools would focus as much on the war . . ." and had to give a laugh and grin at the disgusted, all too much in agreement look on his face.

"More often than you can imagine!" he told her. 

The inquiries came next, subtle, quiet. Just bits of information, gossip being gathered. Always headed back to Colonel Davies. Just what he was looking for, well, no one quite knew. Most who had been asked, told little, but reported the questions to the Cottage, all except Doby who did his usual tittle-tattling. About then, Meghada started noticing unwelcome activity around the Cottage, someone prowling, lurking, watching.

Although she'd rarely done so before, she started leaving the alarm system engaged, and advised Ben Miller of that fact, as well as made a formal police report of the prowler. To her way of thinking, if she had to take drastic action, it might be nice to have some official confirmation that she had at least TRIED to do things the civilized way. At his suggestion, she had one of the links put through to his office and his home, though with him covering the whole village and surround, there was no guarantee he'd be in a position to hear it. Still, it was worth the minimal effort, showed good intent on her part, legitimate concern from a young female living by herself.

The garden gate was now kept locked, as were the doors and windows; Goniff had no problem getting over the wall, of course, least not most times, not unless he'd been hurt on one of the missions, and of course he had no problem whatsoever with the locks, even without recourse to the concealed spare key, and there was a bell there for any others who needed admittance. Though that meant, of course, that she had to be there. She made sure Garrison and each of the team knew where the key to the gate was hidden, and then once inside the gate, the key to the door. She was starting to get annoyed; she didn't like the feeling of being overlooked, never had, which is why those front windows had remained shuttered since she'd moved in. And she didn't like the fact that there would be any constraints to any of the Friends and Family coming to the Cottage as they wanted, needed to, whether she was in residence or not. She knew the wards were wearing thin, but setting them, at least the more complicated ones like she'd be needing, wasn't one of her talents; she made note to ask Caeide to visit when things at Haven were in order.

In fact, the Dragon was losing her patience, and that was pretty much a short trip anyway, and rarely ended anyplace good, as anyone in her family could have told you. Well, Dragons, you know?

Sergeant Major Gil Rawlings had also noticed some odd activity; spur of the moment 'visits' by representatives of the Ministry that oversaw the homes leased to them, visits by a few officers and non-coms he saw no reason for, and even a couple of privates who showed up, 'just to take a look'. He dealt with them, got rid of them all as soon as possible. Although he didn't have the authority to refuse entry to other military personnel, well, officers anyway, or the Ministry folk, he had ordered the guards to notify him, immediately, of ANYONE entering the grounds, and to keep them occupied til he arrived. Of course, that was easier said than done, at least that second part; the guards would have to obey orders from anyone outranking them, at least under most circumstances.

Finally, Lieutenant Garrison put the Mansion, itself, under orders; no admission unless he'd given his approval, and actually got Major Richards to back him up on that. Well, that was justifiable, of course; there was a lot of Classified information tossed about in there, what with the missions and all.

Actually, Colonel Davies was getting a bit frustrated. This had started out by his promising to do a favor for a friend; he'd not expected it to take this much time or effort. Oh, he agreed with his friend; these men had no place anywhere near classified information, or to be in a position of even limited trust, and for an officer, a West Point man at that, to work so closely with the scoundrels was offensive to his sense of the rightness of things. And if what some of the gossip going around had implied was the case, well, that was just beyond the pale, highly irregular activities, both abroad and here, and the ones, especially the officer, involved, AND the other team members who seemingly knew and accepted such a highly improper state of affairs, needed to be taken down and put where they would cause no more damage to the good name of the United States Army! Yes, this was something that needed doing; he certainly didn't regret agreeing to do that little favor, but it was taking too much time; he needed to watch more closely, get this resolved quickly.

"Actually, little sister, part of this comes from one Colonel Pryor; the team pulled him out of a German prisoner of war camp and he has a rather peculiar way of showing his gratitude; I gather he and Chief had a history well before that, and the experience didn't make the whole thing go any smoother. Seems Garrison rather lost his temper and decked the bastard, and Pryor was running around trying to make waves. Our people caught wind and put in a finger or two, not that it needed much; even HQ thought it was rather appalling of him! Better to get this handled quickly so the Colonel and his Sergeant can get back to the jobs they are SUPPOSED to be doing, instead of acting like hired muscle. Not sure how you'd do that; this isn't one of those situations where sending him back to London in an ambulance seems to be the trick, not if you intend to shut his mouth once and for all. And, actually he does a pretty fair job when he's attending TO his job instead of this nonsense; be a shame to lose him entirely, so a hearse is pretty much out of the question, plus clearly, pardon the expression, 'over-kill', when lesser methods should work quite well. Anyway, they're likely to just replace him with some ninety day wonder who'd be as much of a nuisence and much less effective in the war effort."

"Very well, big brother. I'll try to be subtle," only to stop at the uproarious laughter coming over the phone.

"Yes, well, I'll believe that when I see it! Maybe get Coura to help you with that; seems you're about equal in that regard!" speaking of their totally blunt and outrageous young sister.

"Goodbye, Michael, and thank you." Her face was thoughtful as she hung up the phone, and it wasn't long before she picked it up again to make another call.

**  
Constable Ben Miller had been summoned by a brisk knock on the door, issued by one Sergeant Twilling, smug look of satisfaction on the Sergeant's face, and with a deep sigh, Ben laid aside his cards and glass of whisky, bade his good wife Alice a longsuffering farewell, took up his pen and occurrence book and his weapon, along with a small folded sheet of paper he took from his desk, and made the short journey to the dwelling of Miss Meghada O'Donnell. After, of course, making a short phone call to the Parsonage, to summon Miss O'Donnell who was spending some evening hours with the Reverend Standish and his sister Rebecka.

He found all the lights on in the house, in stark opposition to the blackout rules, and without waiting for anything else, yelled, "get those lights out, or get the shades in place and the bloody door shut! You want Jerry to see that??!" And his orders were quickly obeyed by two of the six enlisted men holding the four members of Garrison's team at gunpoint along the wall to the Cottage. At Ben Miller's instructions, all were herded back inside, doors and windows now secured. Inside he found Lieutenant Garrison and Colonel Davies, Davies also with his revolver in his hand, pointed at the Lieutenant. Ben frowned heavily, "now, what's all this??! And put those guns away! This is Brandonshire, not bloody Germany!" 

When a tap came at the door, a frankly annoyed Ben Miller directed the kitchen light be turned off while he opened it to admit the owner of the Cottage; then, upon her entrance and the door closed securely, the lights were turned back up again.

"Ben, just what is all this? Fair frightened the Reverend and Miss Standish, it did, getting a call this time of night, thinking it was news about old Mrs. Cafferty, or their mother what's been so sickly. What was so important it couldn't wait til I returned? Wouldn't have been long in any account, I'd think. We'd arranged for me to be back right at nine, you know." The small black and white dog at her side was taking in the scene, and by the curl of his lip and his faint snarl, wasn't at all pleased with the newcomers, any more than the young woman obviously was.

Ben Miller was standing there, pad and pencil in hand, having been taking notes. "Seems the Colonel here wants me to arrest the Lieutenant and his men for being here, though I can't imagine why?!" They both looked at the Army officer.

"Well, of course I want you to arrest them! And I expect you to put them in a cell and guard them properly until the proper military police can come to take custody."

"And just why would I be putting them in a cell, Colonel? You've not explained that to me." The Constable was obviously trying very hard to be patient, but it obviously was a strain. The Colonel seemed to be having some trouble in that regard as well.

"That should be obvious! Breaking and entering, theft. I've been watching this place, and I clearly saw them." A sharp inhalation came from the owner of the cottage, and a faint growl. The Colonel thought it odd that it seemed almost to come from the young woman when it surely had to have come from the dog. Somehow, the look on her face was not reassuring on that point, though; in fact, that slight lift of the upper lip was surprisingly similar to that adorning the little dog.

Ben frowned mightily, "Ah, twas you, then, watching Miss O'Donnell's cottage. She called to report a peeping tom, she did; someone stalking about the place, watching her. Sir, that's not quite the thing, you know; there are laws against that, and she's not one to take such things lightly. She's within her rights to press charges, especially with you admitting it right out like that." The pursed lips on the young woman showed her full agreement with that statement; in fact, the fire in her eyes boded poorly for her understanding of any explanation the Colonel might give.

"I was watching for them, heard they were making themselves too free down here, and this just proves I was right! You doubt me? The Sergeant and I watched, saw them pick the locks on the gate and the door, sneak in here. I had men waiting and when we came in after just a bit, after I'd sent the Sergeant to fetch you, we found all this," motioning with an outflung arm, "ready to be carted away, and Lieutenant Garrison just sitting there, marking it all down, of all the brazen nerve!"

Ben Miller looked at the items spread around the table. A pile of money, British and American, some he didn't know just what it was; personal documents; a small pile of jewelry, maybe seven or eight pieces; a wooden box that, when flipped open held cut glass decanters and small crystal glasses chased in gold; a stack of letters tied in green ribbon, a framed miniature, a few other seemingly valuable odds and ends. He raised his eyebrows, and took out the folded sheet of paper from his pocket, glancing from it to the table and back. He flipped through the money, doing a fast count, checking it against that sheet of paper; spreading out the jewelry, checking it as well. He made a run through the rest as well, the documents, the other things, looking down at his paper after each item.

He nodded approvingly, but said, "seems you're missing an ivory shadow ball, whatever that might be," only to have the slender blond Englishman say, with total lack of repentence, "found it; didn't 'ave time to snaffle it afore they came rushin in," getting a nod and the order, "well, go and fetch it if you know where it is," and the Colonel and Sergeant and the others watched in shock as the fretwork ivory ball was quickly retrieved from the shadows at the end of a row of books in the library and placed on the table by the small man with the smug look on his face. Ben Miller took another look over the paper in his hand, and nodded to the young woman watching so carefully.

"Looks like they got the lot, and then some, and well within the time limit, considering the time lost from the Colonel interferring and it not quite nine o'clock yet even. Good job, men. And looks like you've got some work to do on your security, Miss O'Donnell," to which she gave a rueful laugh.

"Aye, it does look that way, doesn't it, Ben?" She frowned at the items scattered about, "and you're right, seems I might have a couple, three extra items there, not on the list," raising her brows at the Lieutanant, who grinned and handed over his list to her, now with a check mark beside all the items in her own handwriting, showing where he'd added the final three items in his own script. The Major snatched it away to look at it frowning, noting the two very different handwritings before the young woman reached out to take it crisply from his hands, giving him an exasperated look.

"Actor spotted the two books; says they're First Editions, and quite valuable. You'll want to find a better spot for them, or at least be aware someone might have their eye out for them. And that last, well, it seemed something you probably should find a better spot for too, possibly on a publisher's desk? I can put you in touch with the right one, I think. I read the first three chapters, and I think you have a winner there! I'd like to read the rest when there's time," nodding at the manuscript, formerly tied in butchers twine.

She grinned back at him, "and I thank you kindly. We'll see how it goes; I've only gotten the first twelve chapters, and that doesn't make a book, but it's a decent start. And we need to talk about some ideas about better protecting things in the future, too, when you've the time. Not against men of your talents, perhaps, but against the more run of the mill sorts anyway. There's some things here I'd hate to lose, some being gifts from those who've taken the Long Road, you know. That ivory shadow ball, for instance, was given me by my cousin Maeve, and back at least five generations before it was given into her hands. Ah, the stories I could tell you . . . ". It was as if she had momentarily forgotten the Colonel and his men.

The Colonel was fairly silent during all of this, uncomfortably aware of the easy comraderie between everyone in the room; well, except for him and his men, of course. Now he could no longer restrain himself.

"Just what is the meaning of this??!" And Ben Miller was kind enough to explain. Somehow no one else was enough in charity with him to want to. Actually the small dog crouched at the slender Englishman's feet, snarling at them, was probably the friendliest one in the room outside of the Constable.

"Testing her security, they was, at the lady's request, considering she'd noticed someone prowling about. Guess that would have been you, sir? Anyway, it caused her some concern. In fact, when she asked me about it, I recommended them. She'd not wanted to bother them, being friends and all, especially with all else they have on their plate, but I thought they might just be the ticket, you know; they're well acquainted so there'd be no misunderstandings arising from it, like there might be with strangers. And I'd heard the Lieutenant saying he'd like a few more training opportunities, spur of the moment challenges you might say. So, she tucked things away where she'd normally keep them to be secure, locked the safe, the windows and doors and gate, and went to spent the evening elsewhere, taking her little dog with her, set to return at 9 o'clock sharp. I'd given the list to the Lieutenant, and he gave his men a last minute training exercise, with a time limit; came along to supervise, he did. Seems they pulled it off quite nicely, too. Got something else planned for them in the near future too; imagine it will go just as well. Does quite well, a service for those wanting to know how to better protect their valuables, AND training for them."

Ben cleared his throat, "Now, Colonel, we need to have us a bit of a talk about peeping through windows at young women and stalking about their private residences. All that's just not something we take kindly around here, and with an official complaint being filed, well . . ."

The Colonel and his men left, the farewells said to them being rather cool, not particularly amiable. The rather nasty snarl given them by the small dog, Max by name, was about as friendly as the looks on the others' faces. The mood was not improved, at least on the Colonel's part, when the little brute decided to void his bladder on those shiny boots the Colonel wore.

As for the others, well, they argued about it, of course, but only as to which of them would have the honor of first presenting Max with a special treat. Went to sleep with a stomach well-rounded with such, he did, and snored most of the night, much to his mistress's amusement. She hadn't even minded cleaning up the remaining sprinklings from her floor, she was so pleased with him for expressing her thoughts so clearly. She giggled at the remembering of the look on her Englishman's face, showing that he'd not have minded doing the same as Max, breaking into a laugh at the image that presented.

She regretted that Goniff and Craig had not stayed to discuss further plans if this didn't completely stop the trouble, but none of them put it past the Colonel to have left someone behind to keep watch, so she bade them a reluctant 'Goodnight' along with the rest of the team and the Constable. She slept fitfully, and was awake well before the 6am phone call from the family, giving her the start of the information she had asked for. More calls came in throughout the day, and soon the Dragon coiled and flexed her wings, giving a faint fhuff into the air in preparation for her next move. Now if she could just remember the name of that little specialty shop in London . . .

It was another two days before the Colonel was told he had a visitor, a Miss O'Donnell. He was tight-lipped, embarrassed to some extent, and somewhat belligerant as a result, and not at all inclined to be charitable or mealy-mouthed about the men.

"They're hoodlums, nothing but trouble, and you'd best stay clear of the lot of them, Garrison included. I've heard you're way too close with them, disturbingly so. And them way too close to each other, if you know what I mean and from what I've heard, you do! Not at all the thing, and just trouble for you one way or the other. Don't think what they're doing for Special Services, anything you can do will reform them. It won't! They'll go back to what they were doing before the war, thieving and all the rest, and likely bring you down with them!" He was redfaced and loud by now.

By contrast, she was just smiling easily, sitting back comfortably in the straight backed chair in front of his desk; she crossed her trouser-clad legs, pulling a flask from her jacket pocket and offered him a sip, in all politeness. He refused stiffly, and she shrugged and took a healthy swig. She smiled at him serenely, and somehow that smile made the hair on the back of his neck stand straight out, along with that knowing look in her eyes/. Her voice was almost a purr, so smooth and silky it was, but with an underlying hiss. He'd never heard anything quite like it.

"Well, there's a right many will go back to doing what they were doing before the war, Colonel, aren't there? Back to those they left behind, take up their lives where they left off. You, for example. Expect you'll go home and - that's Cincinnati, if I'm not mistaken. I'm sure you've missed it."

He frowned, wondering how she knew where he came from, wondering where this conversation was going. He'd find out quickly.

"Expect you've been missed, too. Perhaps not by Reverend McDaniels, but I'd think by his wife, Doris. And his teenage daughter, Lorna, I believe her name is; almost sixteen when you left, pretty little blue-eyed thing, though much younger when you made her one of your favorites. And that young nephew of his, the one you had such a fondness for - Charles, wasn't it? A bit younger than Lorna, by a couple of years if I've heard correctly. Ambitious, that was, though perhaps slightly overly ambitious, don't you think?" All with a cold knowing smile at the man sitting frozen at the desk in front of her, his paleness now matching that of her blond Englishman.

"Then, Mr. Clausen might think your playfulness was overly ambitious as well. Along with Miss Pauley. Perhaps a welcome home party could be arranged, one with all of those who must have missed you so much, and their families, their loved ones? I've already spoken with some of my family; they'd be happy to arrange that, along with the help of your charming wife, Gladys, of course. And perhaps your mother, Ada and your father David. And there are others who simply must be invited; we've managed to put together quite a nice little list, including some of the local dignitaries - police chief, mayor, district attorney, you know."

"A most amiable gathering it would be, I'm sure, full of remembrances, fond stories to be told. Why, could carry on well into the night, I'd imagine, there being so many of them, such a variety. Perhaps Colonel Pryor might be invited as well, seeing as he appears to be the one who allowed you and I to become acquainted. We'll have to have another of my people do that inviting though; I'm not so in charity with him, having a particular dislike for persons who can't seem to dredge up at least a little gratitude for those who saved their lives. I'm surprised you'd let yourself be used for such a purpose, frankly; I'd think you had more than enough on your plate with your responsibilities and the war effort."

Her eyes became icy cold, "think carefully before becoming involved in a petty personal argument, Colonel. That can be much more dangerous to your future than you'd think."

She left him there to think about it, all she'd said, all she'd implied. And he thought about how apparently he'd been manipulated into this very dangerous position by his 'old friend', a man he now remembered as being quite adept at manipulation, and frankly, he wasn't amused or very appreciative. In fact, when the next message came, asking for the status on that little 'favor' he'd been asked to perform, he didn't bother to answer, not that one, or the next or the next. From now on, he'd stick to the job at hand. After all, he had a war to fight, and a party to avoid.

That resolution was reinforced the next day when a gift arrived, a Wardian Case, rather exquisite, obviously expensive. His Aide remarked on it as he brought it in and sat it on the Colonel's desk, "a gift, sir, from that nice Miss O'Donnell who was here yesterday. Rather a nice one, too; a glass house, you know! My wife has one of those, though nowhere as nice as this one; rather tricky to keep going, though she keeps trying. What's that strapped to the side, with that little 'Warning' label?" And he was right, the tiny staved barrel had an equally tiny red and white label was firmly affixed with copper wire, "Dangerous Around Glass".

And the Colonel cleared his throat slightly, "a small wooden barrel of pebbles."

The Aide looked puzzled, then his face cleared, "oh, I get it! 'Those who live in glass houses shouldn't . . . throw . . . stones." His voice had faltered at the stark look on his commanding officer's face, "how terribly clever." He gulped, "have to get back to those reports, sir. Were you needing anything else from me?" and took his dismissal gladly.

He wasn't sure what all that was about, but he felt he was probably better off that way. It was obvious the Colonel knew and wasn't all that comfortable about it, no, not at all. Still, quite a clever idea.

Lieutenant Garrison mentioned the rather conspicuous absence of Colonel Davies and his minions a few nights later.

"Should I ask? Do I want to know?" "Oh, nothing dire, Craig. Just reminded him of an old maxim, and you could just see the light bulb go on. I doubt there'll be any more trouble from him," and she smiled at him serenely. "We put a note in our file, to check in on him after the war; always good to keep track of old acquaintences, you know. Might even get a few of the locals there to give us a hand with that."

Craig opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it and looked over at Goniff, lounging in the other big chair in the sitting room, smirking at him over a glass of whiskey.

"Probly a smart decision, Warden. Some things, we're just better off not knowing," as he sat his glass aside, laughed and pulled the redhead down into his lap where she snuggled contentedly.


End file.
